Page 34 of Burned By the Broken Doctor

“Nothing in particular.” He smiles. “Just keep that in mind.”

His words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. Is he talking about me and Emma? About the complicated mess that is my relationship with Emma? Or is he really just talking about life in general, the messy, unpredictable journey that it is?

I don’t need to understand what he means. No one knows me better than myself, and I know there’s no way in hell I feel anything more than attraction for the most infuriating woman I’ve ever met.

True, she’s also the most captivating woman I’ve ever met, but that’s just temporary.

Taking a deep breath, I focus on the stars that are beginning to twinkle in the darkening sky as I sip my beer. One thing I know for sure is things are about to get a whole lot more complicated.

For the first time, I am not sure if I should be scared or excited.

10

EMMA

The spring sun beats down on my face, casting a warm glow on the notepad resting on my lap. June, sprawled out on a picnic blanket beside me, is bubbling with excitement.

June and I are sitting outside on the lawn at a corner of the house, our heads bent over a wedding planner notebook.

It’s a bright and warm Saturday morning. The fresh scent of grass fills the air, and birds are chirping merrily in the trees. It’s an idyllic scene that’s perfect for wedding planning. And naturally, this scene should keep my mind focused on the task at hand. But that’s proving to be a bit challenging…because of the man squatting by my brother’s side in the garage that we have a full view of.

I should have known better than to choose a place directly opposite Damon's auto shop. My gaze has drifted toward it about a half dozen times now, drawn to the doors of the garage where I know Liam’s helping Damon fix a car.

“Are you there, Emma?”

“Yeah?” I blink quickly, dragging my eyes back to my friend before she notices my attention has been somewhere away from her.

“I was suggesting that, for the centerpieces, it’ll be nice to go for white roses with a few sprigs of baby’s breath,” June mumbles, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

I nod as I jot down her request, trying to keep my thoughts in order. “White roses, baby’s breath,” I repeat, scribbling quickly. “Got it.”

“And,” June continues, “I want the bridesmaids in light lavender dresses. Nothing too frilly. Simple and elegant.”

“Light lavender sounds good,” I echo, writing it down. My gaze flickers over to the side again. Liam and Damon are now outside the auto shop. Damon is on a mat rolled under the car while Liam is bent over the hood, his broad frame filling out the worn denim of his jeans. He raises his head and says something inaudible to Damon, who shrugs and hands him a wrench. Liam wipes his brow with his arm, and even from here, I can’t help but smile at the concentration on his face. He looks so effortlessly handsome it’s distracting.

“Emma? Did you hear what I said about the bouquets?” June’s voice pulls me back to the present.

“Sorry, what was that?” I ask, giving her an apologetic smile.

She sighs, good-naturedly rolling her eyes. “I said I want the bouquets to have a mix of wildflowers, something colorful and lively.”

“Wildflowers, colorful,” I repeat, writing it down. “Got it. That sounds beautiful.”

“Now let’s talk seat arrangements, yeah?”

I nod, and as June goes on about the seating arrangements, I can’t help but glance over at Liam again. He’s now pulling off his shirt, revealing a hard, toned torso that sends a jolt of unexpected desire through me. My breath catches in my throat. I can remember my hands running all over those tight muscles as he thrusts into me.

Heat floods my cheeks, and I quickly avert my eyes. The memory of our tryst at his house is still raw in my mind. I can still vividly recall the feeling of every touch, the way my body responded to his. Anytime I remember, it feels like a switch is flipped within me, igniting a yearning that surprises even me.

I can’t believe how much I want him again.

“Emma, you’re missing it again.” June’s voice breaks through my thoughts. She’s looking at me with a knowing smile.

“Sorry, June. I’m just a bit distracted,” I mumble, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Where’s your mind gone?”

“Nowhere in particular.” I shrug.

---